


Weakness

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Never Far from the Queen [2]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Gen, ancient Engwith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 11:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: He has seen Woedica before, but it is the first time he realizes that his queen is also a woman. Before, he admired and revered her as his sovereign, but now there is a fire kindling in his soul and he thinks this is not something a servant is allowed to feel.





	Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> (prompt: Thaos, trap, beginnings)

He has seen Woedica quite often before, usually in her throne room; as a son of the queen’s advisor he has been practically brought up at court – well, close enough to know how it works, know it just as well as the soulmasters know their mysterious devices. By now, having watched it for twenty years, Thaos has learned the place and purpose of each little wheel that keeps the machinery moving.

But before, he has always seen Woedica in her official robes, with a crown on her head; just as she was that day when he swore fealty to her as her future servant. She is beautiful like a statue, and just as unreachable, so haughty she seems otherworldly, and yet with her feet planted firmly on the ground; admirable but so distant any thoughts beyond reverence and loyalty have never crossed his mind.

Today, though, the queen receives them in the royal office, not half as grand a chamber as the throne room; walls are lined with shelves full of scroll-cases, instead of columns and sculptures, the table is littered with maps, the floor is just simple tiles, not mosaic; the only similarity is the magical light enclosed in adra lamps. It is a room made for efficiency and usefulness, not for grandeur.

The first thing Thaos notices is that Woedica is not wearing her crown. Her hair is kept together by an adra-encrusted pin, but it is not weaved into one of her usual tight and elaborate hairstyles where not a single strand is out of place. This time, it tumbles down her back and shoulders like a waterfall, golden and copper waves gleaming in the light; a perfect contrast to the white adra of her skin and her lips pale like frozen flowers. Her face, framed by the hair and by an elaborate copper collar, is luminous, and the adra jewels at her throat match the colour of her eyes. Her robe is simple, grey and flowing; it would be unfit for a queen if not for the fact that Woedica glows – with beauty and charisma, and intelligence that makes her eyes always sharp and focused.

Thaos bows his head respectfully, a bit lower than necessary just to keep himself from staring. He has seen Woedica before, but it is the first time he realizes that his queen is also a woman. Before, he admired and revered her as his sovereign, but now there is a fire kindling in his soul and he thinks this is not something a servant – even a future royal advisor – is allowed to feel.

When he straightens, Woedica is watching him. Appraising. Judging. Thaos keep his expression neutral, concentrating on his respect for the queen and on the reason he is here – to lend his mind to her service. The oath was one thing – not as important, for because of his father’s position the whole family is sworn to the throne already – but there is much to talk about – to hear of the queen’s expectations and to show her his abilities – for he has no doubt there is a test prepared for him, and they are here among all the scrolls and maps so that he can prove how smart and observant he is, and how fast he can think and draw conclusions. That does not intimidate him; he has been taught by his father and watched him at work; he is used to the thought of how much is expected of him, and he rises to the challenge, fully intending to exceed those expectations. Not for ambition, like his father would; just because whatever he does, he wants to do it well.

Woedica is watching him as if she could read his thoughts. Maybe she can – it is said she can judge a person by taking a single look at them, that she can see straight into someone’s soul. Thaos has never heard anyone confirm the rumours, but what he has witnessed at the court so far makes him inclined to believe them.

Finally, the queen gives a small nod of approval.

“You have taught your son well,” she says to his father.

Verran ix Arkannon briefly bows his greying head. “I have served your father for years, my lady. It seems appropriate that my son should serve you now.” The corners of his lips lift in a measured smile. “He has been taught by the best.”

Woedica laughs, and Thaos tries to pay no attention to how her laughter sounds so different than her usual commanding voice. The queen is a few years older than him – he is not sure how many exactly – but seeing her giving orders and dispensing justice makes it all too easy to forget how young she still is. But suddenly he remembers, because her laughter is that of a girl, of a woman younger and much more carefree. It resounds in his very soul.

“Modesty has never been your strength,” Woedica says to his father.

“False modesty is a weakness,” Verran answers, still smiling.

“So is the lack of it,” Thaos remarks, his face impassive. “And not being able to tell one’s weaknesses from strengths is the greatest failing of all.”

His father’s eyes flash with anger; he would be allowed such a liberty at home, or in their chambers at court, but not in front of another, especially not in front of their sovereign. Thaos calmly bears his father’s stare. They have never quarrelled, not exactly, but they have also never truly agreed on many things, ambition and modesty among them. Thaos does not care for pursuing greatness; what he wants is a purpose, a cause worthy of devoting his life to; learning and using the knowledge to actually do something. He wants his actions to matter. But his name? It is not important.

“You have taught your son well,” Woedica repeats, her eyes focused on his father. There is something hard and unyielding in her gaze, hard enough to make even Verran ix Arkannon relent and step back. “But not as well as he has taught himself, it seems,” she says, turning to Thaos and smiling at him pleasantly. “I think, Thaos, that we shall work together quite well.”


End file.
